A New Life
by homesweethomicide13
Summary: It was hard, moving on, leaving your past behind. But he'd do it, just for her. Barda x Lindal.


**Title:** A New Life  
**Author:** homesweethomicide13  
**Rating:** T, because I rate everything T.  
**Warning:** None?  
**Pairing:** Barda x Lindal  
**Disclaimer:** Yeah, yeah, no ownage for me. Except for Barda's friends. They belong to me.  
**Summary:** It was hard, moving on, leaving your past behind. But he'd do it, just for her.

**A New Life**

Barda stepped inside the large room he had known for pretty much most of his life. It was here that he and his mother had lived, before the Shadow Lord invasion. Two doors were stationed at the back of the room. One led to the room his mother had slept in. The other led to his old room.

The room looked different: much had changed since he had lived there. It hadn't been inhabited by anyone since Lief had taken up the throne, and clearly no one had lived in it for the sixteen years that the Shadow Lord was in reign. No darkness had touched the room. And yet it still looked different.

It didn't take him long to discover why. The last time he'd been in this room, there had been possessions scattered throughout. Small portraits in frames had been upon the mantelpiece. His mother's books and equipment had been in the cabinet in one corner. Now it was an empty shell – all these things had been removed a long time ago. He wondered where they'd been put. He knew they were probably burnt, along with most of the things that the Shadow Lord's men had found in the palace.

He went to his mother's room first. This room had changed too, but he barely noticed it. In his mind, he had gone back many years to another time when he would have walked through this door. He saw, in his mind, his mother – sat at the small desk against one wall, working on fixing one of King Endon's cloaks that had managed to get torn. Sighing, he walked to the large bed and sat down. Every little thing reminded him of her. Though it was probably his imagination, the bed still smelt of her.

He remembered coming in here at night when he was very young, after a bad dream had scared him out of his bed. His mother would wake instantly to his voice, and let him sleep beside her in her bed.

He remembered sleeping in this bed when he was sick, with his mother's soothing words and comforting touch at his side.

Many memories lay within this bed. Happy memories, and sad ones too. Barda felt tears stinging the back of his eyes and left the room abruptly. He could not be in that room any longer. It was too painful.

Walking over to the other door, he paused. This room had been his sanctuary for most of his life – the room which he would run to when angry, or hurt. The room which he had made his own. He considered walking away, but decided it was best to know. With a heavy heart, he opened the door and stepped in. Nothing had been moved, but everything that did not belong had been taken away. No longer did his spare uniform hang in the closet. No longer did his throwing daggers lay, embedded, in the cabinet's surface. No longer did his bow and quiver of arrows stand, propped, in the corner. Everything from his childhood had gone. It did not look like his room anymore.

He collapsed onto the bed, lying back as once he would have done after a long day at work. It was then that he realized that not everything had changed. For above his head, on the patch of ceiling directly above the bed, were written messages. Messages written it all colours of ink, in all styles of writing. Some messages were signed, others were not. But he did not need names to know who had written what. He remembered the days when his friends would stand upon his bed to write their own message on his ceiling. He remembered when Jordan had spilt ink over his face when he had tried to write something on the ceiling. He remembered when Bobby-James had toppled sideways off the bed.

He remembered when the three of them lay back on the bed, out of breath from laughing and staring up at their words.

Barda sighed. It had been far too long since he'd seen his two best friends. He didn't even know if they were still alive. The last time he'd seen Jordan was when his mother had been killed. The last time he'd seen Bobby-James was earlier that morning, on their way to work. He hadn't been able to say goodbye to his friend that night. It was one of his greatest regrets.

He looked up as a shadow fell across him from the doorway. Lindal – tall and strong as always – was leaning against the door frame, smiling.

"Sharn said I'd find you here." She said to him. He sat up, and she walked over to sit beside him. "So this is where you used to live, huh?" She looked around at the room and pictured what it could have been like when Barda had inhabited it. Silence fell between them. Lindal felt the uncomfortable silence pressing down on both of them, and attempted a joke. "I always wondered if I'd ever get to see the inside of a boy's room." It had the desired effect. The silence dissipated as Barda grinned.

"I'm afraid it's not all that exciting." He replied with a laugh. Silence fell again, but this time it was comfortable. After a moment, Lindal asked the question that had been bugging her.

"When Lief took up the throne and you all moved into the palace, why didn't you come back to live here?" She asked him. Barda sighed.

"The thought had crossed my mind. I came back here the first moment I could." He paused and cast his eyes downward to stare at the floor. "But the second I stepped through that first door, I knew I couldn't live here again. The place is full of memories. I couldn't even be in my mother's old room for a few minutes. If I lived here, I'd start seeing her everywhere. It would drive me crazy." He stopped. He knew if he continued, he'd choke up. And he was not going to cry. Not in front of someone, and especially not in front of Lindal.

"I can understand that." Lindal smiled gently, which was a rare sight. "I can't possibly think to understand the pain, though. If my parents are dead, so be it. They left Broome the moment I was big enough to look after myself. I guess I was never really close to them." She studied Barda's face, trying to read whatever emotion was in his eyes. But with someone who had trained himself to mask all emotion that could be seen as weakness, she found it difficult. "You seemed pretty close to your mother." The smallest of smiles crossed Barda's face.

"I was." Was all he said. After a moment, he spoke again. "I was all she had after my father disappeared. I guess that's why we were so close. It was always just the two of us. And no matter how big I got, she always insisted that I was her little boy. Even on her deathbed, she insisted it." He took a deep breath when he felt the emotion building up inside him. He hoped Lindal hadn't noticed how close he had come to showing exactly what he felt right at that moment. But with eyes as sharp as hers, Lindal missed nothing. She smiled.

"It's okay to be upset." She said quietly. Barda turned to her sharply, surprised. "She was your mother. You miss her, I know. And you hurt because of that. You told me that you were all she had. But she was all you had, too." Barda couldn't stop it now. He closed his eyes as a tear escaped. It was the first time he'd cried in many, many years. Spotting this, Lindal shifted a little closer and, after a moment's hesitation, put an arm around his shoulders. Barda brought a hand up to his face and wiped it over his eyes, determined that he would not cry anymore. Everything Lindal had said was true. He did miss her. He did hurt because she wasn't there anymore. She was all he had.

He glanced at Lindal. No. She had been all he had, but now he had something else. He had known Lief since the boy had been born. He was like a nephew or a little brother to him now. Jasmine, his future bride, was like the sister he'd never had. Sharn was his closest friend. Doom, too – though there were plenty of 'disagreements' between them – was a close friend. And Lindal? Well, Lindal was special to him.

Back before the Shadow Lord invasion, his mother had constantly badgered him about getting married. He was an only child, after all. He had the responsibility of carrying on the family name. That was what she'd told him, but he knew all she wanted was grandchildren. And she wanted him to be happy. She always got so worried that he'd never fall in love and get married, and he'd always reassured her that he would one day.

He was just sorry that she wasn't there to witness it when it finally did happen.

He became aware that he had been quiet for a while and Lindal looked a little concerned, so he smiled.

"Thank you, Lindal." He murmured quietly. She returned the smile. Sighing, he stood up and held out a hand to her. "Come on, let's go."

"You sure?" She asked, still sitting. He shrugged casually.

"Everyone has to let go sometimes." He responded. Lindal nodded. She knocked away his hand and stood on her own, which made Barda chuckle. His mother had always thought he'd marry a small, fragile, palace girl who he could look after and protect like the man he was. She'd laugh if she knew that the woman her son had fallen in love with was the complete opposite of that. He followed Lindal back out of his room, and to the door that led out into the palace. He stopped and turned to gaze back around the room.

"I can understand if you want to stay here, Barda." Lindal said, bringing him out of his thoughts. "I mean, Broome is a long way away from here. You'll be leaving everything behind." He smiled and closed the door on his old life. Deciding to take a chance – which could lead to his hand being cut off – he slipped his hand into hers.

"I'm sure I can manage." It was worth it to see the smile on her face. "I'm just terrified of what Lief and Jasmine will do to me when I tell them I'm leaving." As she walked along, laughing and tugging him along by their linked fingers, he smiled. He was glad that he'd chosen Lindal to be his wife. Of course, he'd have to ask her first, but he thought he could do it. He just hoped she'd agree. He looked back once at the door to his old home, before turning his back on it, focusing now on the woman he loved.

It was hard, moving on, leaving your past behind. But he'd do it, just for her.


End file.
